


How Could He Ever Want Anybody Else?

by colisahotnorthernmess



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Jealousy, M/M, Neck Kissing, Possessive Behavior, Teacher-Student Relationship, Undressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-15 04:36:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15405117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colisahotnorthernmess/pseuds/colisahotnorthernmess
Summary: Manager Gareth Southgate is upset when he sees the Sun on Sunday front page headline about a girl receiving hush money from an unknown England player to cover up a one night stand. He's upset because this is exactly the type of behaviour he has tried to eradicate from the England squad of late. And he's even more upset at the prospect of it being Harry. He suddenly feels jealous.





	How Could He Ever Want Anybody Else?

Gareth was incensed with rage, or, at the very least, as incensed as Gareth ever _could_ be. He didn't really raise his voice; he didn't really shout - he wasn't that kind of leader. He felt that little could be achieved through such guidance - the old school, Alex Ferguson style of management, where spit-laden insults and projectile football boots were the dressing room norm. But, with hands gently shaking with anger, Southgate tossed the newspaper down onto the bench in disgust. And glared at his team with abject disappointment.

"Last week's Sun on Sunday," he said, glowering. The players were here for a day-long training session to keep their hand in working together as the England team, in preparation for an upcoming friendly. But it seemed that _this_ item was first on the agenda.

"This is _exactly_ the type of behaviour I have tried to steer you away from," he once again lifted the tabloid rag and gave it a shake, emphasising his point. "This girl here," he tapped the cover, "Says one of _our_ squad pretended to be single in order to sleep with her and _then_ offered her hush money to stop the story leaking to the press. Now, firstly, how true _is_ this? Secondly, is it any of you?" he rolled the paper into a tube and pointed it out onto the team, like a microphone he expected them to speak into and divulge their innermost thoughts.

Unsurprisingly, he was met with responses of: "Not me, boss.", "Never heard of it.", "Not anyone I know.", "She's probably just publicity seeking." The dressing room was awash with hubbub.

Whilst he would have _liked_ to have believed them wholly, he did have his doubts - he knew what young footballers could be like once they'd had a drink or two - after all, he'd been one himself at one point. But, let it be known to all that _he_ would have the last word on this matter. "We're here to play _football_ ," he told them, scornfully, "We aren't here to shag everything that moves. This isn't bloody _Love Island_ ." The players bowed their heads in shame. Even if they, themselves, hadn't been involved in such a scandal, they all knew somebody who _had._

"You are all ambassadors for this sport and, more importantly, ambassadors for your country. The World Cup has really seen the spotlight put on you guys," Southgate lectured. "So remember - _all_ of you... this kind of thing just _isn't_ acceptable now - _this_ type of thing needs to belong in the past." There were silent nods all round. "Now come on," the manager clapped his hands together and began to rally his troops, "Let's get out there." He ushered his squad out of the dressing room and onto the training pitch. They began to file out of the exit, one by one, like soldiers - carrying their footballs under their arms as if they were rifles.

But Gareth tugged on Harry Kane's shirt and urged him to stay behind the others, as the men disappeared out onto the turf.

"S'up, boss?" he smiled at him. The weather was so warm that he was sweating already, before he'd even _started_ to move. He placed the ball aside and wiped the sweat from his brow with the front of his England shirt.

"Please say it isn't you," Gareth pleaded, a sadness to his tone.

"What?" Harry asked, confused. The newspaper was, once again, held up to his face. "No," he cried. "God... what do you think _I_ am?"

"I had to ask," Southgate said, swallowing hard.

"You _didn't_ ," Kane corrected him. "That was unnecessary. You should know that I'm not like that, boss," he was clearly becoming rattled and so much was evident in his voice. In fact, for the first time in a long time, he was _angry_ at Gareth - he wasn't sure he could ever remember being so annoyed by anything he had ever said before. But, then again, the relationship between them was _different_ now than it ever had been before.

"I'm so sorry," he sighed, feeling just awful for _ever_ accusing him. "I just," the truth began to spill from the older man's mouth. "Just..." and now the trickling river of a confession was now becoming an unstoppable torrent, so forceful it was soon to drown them both in emotion. "Don't want to _share_ you," he finally gasped, strong and demanding hands clutching at Kane's shirt and dragging him close until their bodies were both touching - a grip so powerful that it nearly took Harry off-balance, one shoe flat to the ground, metal studs barely holding purchase. But the player wouldn't topple over; he was being tightly held in Gareth's grasp.

"Those beautiful women ogling you... they make me so jealous," he whispered into his ear, feeling altogether ashamed of himself. Suddenly, Southgate felt so very _old_ and out of his lover's league; in _his_ mind, Kane was in the Premiership and _he_ was in the Conference when it came to their looks. Harry could feel the pounding of his manager's heartbeat, his heart thudding an uneasy beat inside of its ribcage, as they stood chest-to-chest. It took all of this for Harry to realise just how much this _meant_ to Gareth. And so he _allowed_ himself to be taken into those arms, where he was met with a barrage of desperate, _possessive_ kisses to his neck and jawline.

"No need," he mouthed reassuringly, " _Boss._ "

But there  _was_ , however, a  _need_ for Southgate to have Harry and have him  _now_ \- to reassure _himself_.

He was already breathing heavily. Who _knew_ what state he would be in by the end of their encounter but, still, he challenged himself to hold it together and dared to tell Kane: "I'm not sure this shirt is appropriate for the kind of training exercises I have planned for you today--"

Before he could finish his sentence, Harry was holding his arms aloft, waiting for Gareth's assistance in removing his shirt. It was quickly tossed onto the dressing room floor. "And I'm not sure that your shorts are appropriate either..." Southgate added, licking his lips in both _concentration,_ contemplation of his next move, and _anticipation_ of what was to come - the inevitable banishment of his young captain's shorts, in which his beautiful thighs and package were _already_ rather visible, but now virtually _obscene_ within the tight confines of pale blue boxers.

"It's like doing P.E.," Harry laughed, blushing slightly and a little nervous about his state of undress, the reddening of his cheeks in stark contrast to the blondness of his hair. "In your socks and pants, I mean."

But his nervousness and blushes only went on to grow and, for sure, they were not the only thing beginning to grow as Southgate sank to his knees and started to pull at the waistband of his underwear, gradually easing the boxers down. It wasn't the first time Gareth had seen him naked - _everyone_ knew that the team took after-match showers together _all_ of the time; it wasn't even the first time the pair of them had fooled around naked like _this_ \- but it had always been in the comfort of hotel rooms, or in private. Not like this; not with over twenty other squad members training on the field beside them, with only one _unlocked_ door between them and himself to hide his modesty.

"Ga-- Gareth," he stammered. "Not here... We can't." Harry's body, however, was betraying him. The thought of being caught and the danger of the situation was only further enlarging certain parts of his anatomy. He could see the team playing a passing game through a small, almost-ceiling height window. If only they knew, he pondered, with some consideration. He wondered what they would think if they could see their manager now, palms flat to the floor, on all fours, planting gentle kisses on the inside of the young player's thigh, then delicately caressing with his fingers the blond fuzz which trailed all of the way up to his genitals.

He caught sight of Gareth's eyes which, despite his actions, were focussed _not_ on what he was doing, but on Harry's own eyes. The footballer bashfully glanced away, surprised by the intensity of his tutor's longing stare.

But Southgate soon had his full attention again when he ran a greedy tongue over his sac and along the length of his fully erect cock, burying his nose into Harry's balls and relishing the manly scent. "Oh god," came a moan. The hungry mouth was now enveloping the head of his dick - a hot and slippery sensation. Usually, they would do this the other way round, but it seemed that Gareth was eager to show Harry of his desire to 'keep' him. He was beside himself with the idea of him straying.

"Ho--How could I ever want anybody else?" Kane asked, stuttering - it was currently so difficult to form words with Southgate wrapping his tongue around his member in such a way, rolling the wet pink muscle around his slit, teasing the nerve endings and wildly roaming. Harry slid fingers through the dark forest that was Gareth's beard and cupped his face so lovingly as the older man continued to pleasure him. "You've given me everything I could ever want, boss... I'm-- I'm all yours," he blurted, as he was brought ever nearer to completion.

The training session would have to _wait_ for a few minutes longer, he decided. Or, perhaps, _seconds_ , he then realised, as Gareth engulfed his cock for one final time before swallowing _all_ he had to give; the seed of a boy who was truly _his_.


End file.
